A Day to Remeber

A long, long, time ago...

As a child, we used to wander the hills of Marin County in search of adventure. One day, my friend and I were on an expedition for snakes and lizards. An exploit that would take us to one of the many small reservoirs hidden in the hills of Marin.
This was a day in which I will always remember.

As we climbed the road to the top of the Dam, there were several families standing at the edge of the lake; cautiously staring at a group of older boys, who were pelting the tin roof and sides of the delapetated wooden spill-well with rocks. It appeared, as though they'd been drinking and didn’t care much about anything, except the loud bang! the rocks made as they hit the tine roof.

My friend and I figured we could slip past them if we just kept to ourselfs, minding our own business. In retrospect, this probably wasn’t such a good idea. As we neared the rowdy group, they begin to yell, “Catch-em! See if they can swim!” We ran for the horse trail. While I was running, a rock hit me in the head and sent me to the ground. I was bleeding. We ran home.

At the same time we got home, my dad was pulling up in his car. He was driving the green Volkswagen. My father, a High School Teacher, and Coach, was dressed in his wing tip shoes, slacks, white shirt and tie. He stepped from the car and I told him what happened. He checked my head and said, "You'll be fine." Then sent my friend home and told me, “Get in the car, and take me to these boys!”

Walking up the hill, the same hill I'd left an hour ago, it was difficult keep the pace with Dad. every step he would take, I had to run a little, skip and hop just to keep in stride. Once at the top, we could here them - and they were still throwing rocks.

Ignoring the crowd, dad walked straight ahead. Even as rocks flew over our heads, he walked. It wasn’t until we were directly in front of the boys, did they acknowledge us and I thought, how odd and disrespectful this was and I was surprised that they weren't scared of my father.

My father spoke first, saying. “My son was hit in the head by a rock. Which on of you threw the rock?” It was a direct question and I suppose, if you knew my father, it would be in your best interest to reply with a direct answer. But of course, they didn’t know him and so there was no response. He asked again. “Which one you threw the rock?”

A frizzy haired boy, who stood in the middle of the group, stepped forward, and said. “Old man, there’s six of us, and only one of you, what are you gonna do about it?” And I thought, WOW – I’ve never heard anybody talk dad that way.

Dad looked at me and smiled, turned and faced the boys and then - BOOM!!!

Just like lightning, he hit that boy so fast and real hard too. He hit him smack-dab in the center of his chest, it sounded like thunder, loud enough to send ripples across the lake and loud enough to here a roar of approval from the crowd that gathered at the other end of the dam.
The boy flew over the bench, tumbled down the rocky hill and lay motionless at the bottom.

And then, dad said, “Now, there’s-five.”

It’s a day I will always remember.